a small encounter

Small Child: You know, we have more toys at our house than you do at yours.

Me: Oh well that is probably because we only have one kid in our family and you have three.

Small Child: Why do you only have one kid?

Me: Well . . . God has only given us one kid so far.

Small Child: Why?

Me: I don't know.

Small Child: Is he going to give you more kids?

Me: Yeah, I think we will be getting more kids.

Small Child: When?

Me: Don't know.

Small Child: Then how do you know you will get them?

Me: I just know.

Small Child: No, how do you know? You might not.

Me: A little birdy told me so.

Small Child: What? A bird? It could talk? What was it's name?

Me: Frank.

Small Child: Birds can't talk!

Me: Hummm. You believe whatever you want, but Frank and I talked all through lunch. I had ham on rye, he had tuna fish. He told me he gets really mad when little kids ask a lot of questions.

Small Child: You're just kidding. Frank didn't talk.

Me: Oh, you got me. I'm just being funny. Did you know that I have more friends than you? I even have friends in Finland. I guess that makes me the coolest. You better run along now, I think your mom is calling.

Rocket Boys

If you read Homer Hickam's memoir or saw the movie "October Sky", you know what a rocket boy is. My dad was, or I should say, is, a rocket boy. Throughout his youth he and a group of buddies were fascinated by rockets and space. As any mother could guess, many shenanigans ensued.

My son just got his first rocket this week. It is all assembled, gleaming white with red racing strips and waiting on his dresser for the big lift off.

My dad is still letting off rockets. He is an aerospace engineer. I wonder if my son will follow in his path.

I just finished and posted this ring today. I have several special orders that I am also trying feverishly to complete. I really hope I can get all caught up this week.

And then there's the laundry. . .